


Anger

by cowboykylux



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Come Eating, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25550878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: When Charlie is in the middle of this nasty divorce, falling out of love with the woman who is stealing his son away, all he wants is to be with you.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Anger

He startles you when he slams the door to his house shut, startles you with the way he blows through the living room into the kitchen. You glance at the clock, it’s only two in the afternoon. The court hearing wasn’t supposed to end until four at the very least, and you worry about Charlie when the look on his face is nothing but a mask of rage.

“God I fucking _hate_ – ” He sets down his bag on the table too harshly, practically throws it down, rips it off his body as he seethes, “This _fucking_ woman.”

You’re stunned for a moment, just because he’s never regarded her with such rage, not yet anyway. You wondered when the resentment would come, he’d always been so gracious towards his wife, had always tried to be fair.

Looks like she wasn’t returning the favor.

“Bad day?” You ask lightly, and when he turns that thunderous gaze onto you, you put down the lunch you’re making and open your arms for him with a sad smile. “Sorry I’m just teasing, come here.”

“No I’m – ” He shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair.

“I can handle you honey, come here.” You assure and reassure him, taking a step forward.

He didn’t really have a temper, not really. You’d only heard him yell one time, and that was because you had almost gotten run down by a cab who didn’t care to pay attention to the pedestrian crossing sign.

He didn’t have a temper, but he was always so worried of turning into his father, was always so wary of becoming like the man he hated. You knew he wouldn’t, he just needed to let off some steam.

He rushes into your arms, frantic almost. You can feel the heat of his anger simmering through him as he grips you too tightly, pulls you flush against his body and buries his face in the crook of your neck, shaking shaking shaking from rage.

“Can I see you? Please? I’m – fuck I’m going to scream – I just need – ” His throat’s gone dry, and you nod, try and disentangle yourself from his arms.

Without any preamble, you tug your shirt up and over your head, toss it into the corner somewhere. You’re not wearing a bra, because you hadn’t planned on leaving the house at all today, and Charlie’s eyes zero in on your tits, his hands immediately cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing little circles over your nipples.

You don’t know if the soothing gesture is meant for you, or to calm him down.

“Bedroom.” You whisper, and he lets out a shuddering sigh.

He slips off his shoes and you take him by the hand and lead him up his stairs to his bedroom, the bedroom which you’ve foolishly started to think as your bedroom too.

This was the new house, the house Charlie bought with his _fuck you_ money, to try and persuade the Judge that he’d be a better fit for his son. It was working, it had to be working, and you were there to help make the house a home. What did it matter that Charlie was married if she was never around? You spent more time with him than she did these days.

You certainly spent more time in his bed than her.

“On your back, I want to look at you.” He orders, and you willingly obey, happy to do as he says, wanting to do what he says.

You both strip down to nothing quickly, and he’s pushing you crowding you pulling you onto the mattress even faster. The sheets are fresh, you had just changed them that morning after all. The sheets are fresh and cool, and the afternoon light of the sun washes through the bedroom and tries to lift Charlie’s spirits, but you know it’s in vain.

The only thing that’s keeping him steady right now is the way his hands grip your thighs, bruises no doubt to form around your hips with the way he manhandles you and shoves you around to better get himself settled of top of you.

“Don’t be sweet,” You tell him, kiss his cheek. You know he needs hard and fast, and you want him to take it.

Your legs are spread for him, and he grunts when he slides a hand down your bodies to toy with your pussy, to rub and pet at it, getting your body responsive and making your cunt drip for him. He loves to make you soaked before he fucks you, and you’re always more than happy to let go and allow yourself to feel the pleasure he gives you, allow him to pleasure you for both of your benefit.

“Moan for me, let me hear you.” He grits out as he licks his lips, and you tip your head back and let the sounds of your pleasure slip onto your tongue.

He doesn’t finger you for long, mostly because he’s too wound up, too fucking pissed off, too impatient. He withdraws his hand and shoves it in your mouth, four fingers coated in your own slick that you happily suck down. You brace a hand on his wrist to keep him from gagging you, and you settle your hips onto the pillow he’s nestled under you.

“I love this fucking pussy, fucking love it. It’s mine, isn’t it?” He grunts, working his cock into your folds, pushing deep into you. He’s been fucking you for so long that your body knows how to take him, knows how to make room for his big cock.

You nod, sucking hard on his fingers, laving your tongue against them, moaning around them as a sign that he can plow you good and hard.

And he does, fuck he does. He’s so strong, has so much power in those muscles. Sometimes you forget how fucking _big_ of a man Charlie is, both his height and his cock. He’s got so much power and so little control sometimes, that when he skips the soft and sweet stage and goes right into hard railing, you almost choke on his fingers from the sudden sensation.

He pistons his hips hard and fast, the sound of skin smacking on skin echoes sharply in the air, and your moans are muffled by the hand pressed against your mouth, but they’re there, he’s drawing them out of you with no problem. His hand moves down just a little to grasp your jaw, to hold you steady as he fucks you.

His cock rams up into your pussy and he’s red in the face from the effort, body shaking around you. His jaw in clenched, and you smooth your hands up his pecs, rub his chest in a way you hope is comforting, as he raws you. He tilts your hips with one of his big hands, and you yelp when the head of his cock slams up hard against your cervix.

“Sorry, sorry – fuck,” Charlie pinches and plays with your nipples, twists them hard and sucks on them as an apology for the harsh treatment, the springs in the bed protesting from how much force he’s using on you.

He readjusts and bites down hard onto your shoulder, anchoring himself there, tethering himself to you. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing harshly, so harsh, you can feel the almost wetness in his eyes; tears from frustration or anger or lust or relief, you don’t know.

He finds the spot inside you that makes your eyes fly open, makes your back arch and your toes curl even more than they already were, and he presses your sternum back down onto the mattress as he fucks that spot over and over, rubs your clit while he does it with one of his spit slick fingers, teeth biting down deeper into your flesh – so deep you’re worried he’ll break the skin.

You come, and you cry out his name, beg for him, beg for him to keep going, not to stop. You’re floating on cloud nine, absolutely over the moon with your orgasm, your legs trembling, vision whiting out from it all.

He slams one of his fists against the wall then, just needing to expel some of the energy he can’t seem to get rid of, as the force of his thrusts push you further up up up the bed, until you’re almost sitting up against the headboard. He punches the wall and shouts out his own frustration, eyes shut tight. He yanks you back down with a kiss to your cheek, fits a hand over your throat so you can’t go anywhere again.

It’s almost sweet, how even when he’s this angry, this fucking wound up, he doesn’t want to far away.

When he finally comes, he doesn’t bother pulling out, doesn’t bother doing anything. He comes and he fucks it deeper deeper deeper into you, fucks his come back into your pussy when it starts to leak out around the thickness of his cock. He pants in your ear as he milks his own orgasm, tries to empty every last drop of it into you.

And then he slumps forward, exhausted, all the anger and rage he held in his chest all day finally having dissipated. His chest heaves, and he’s covered in sweat. You can feel it with the way your hand slides across the meat of his back, those strong muscles there twitching as he keeps coming inside you.

He turns his face towards yours, and you meet his lips happily with lazy open mouthed kisses. They’re really more just presses of your mouths against one another, but then he rolls you onto your sides – careful not to pull out – and cups your cheeks in his palms, kisses you properly while he tries to steady his breathing.

It hurts your heart to see him so worked up the way he was, hurts to see him so angry. You’re glad that you can give him this, can help calm him down, help bring him back to the Charlie you know and love.

“Better?” You ask him, reaching up with a pleasure weak hand and tucking some of his hair behind his ear so it’s out of his face.

He closes his eyes against the sensation of your care, and lets out a long sigh of relief that has him settling deeper into the mattress.

“In every possible way.” He whispers, grasping your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips, “Thank you.”

“Does she have Henry still?” You hesitate to ask because you don’t want to get him all angry all over again, but you need to know so you can figure out how to help him calm down for the rest of the evening at the very least.

“Yeah.” He responds, his jaw working.

That’s what you were worried of – tonight was supposed to be the first night of Charlie’s time with Henry. Nicole must have pulled some stunt to reschedule. You couldn’t wait for the judge to finalize everything and just let Charlie have the full custody he deserves.

But until then, the house was going to be for just the two of you, and there were some perks to that, even if you wished Henry could be here too. 

“Let me cook you dinner then.” You whisper, kissing him, kissing his handsome nose and his high cheekbones and his perfect pouty lips, “You can have me again for dessert, if you want.”

“Believe me honey, I will.” He tells you.

And he smiles then, the first smile you’ve seen from him all day, as he lets himself be kissed, lets himself be held by the most beautiful woman in the world.


End file.
